


Sonata

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: K: Interludes [3]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Cargo ship: Fushimi/Knives, Fushimi & Munakata father-son relationship, Fushimi is like a prickly hedgehog, Gen, Munakata pre-Blue King background referenced, Post-ROK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-20 09:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20672990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: Follows "Overture" - Fushimi continues to rehabilitate from his injuries. Munakata deftly maneuvers into the political fields internally at Sceptre 4 and externally with the Japanese government. Sceptre 4 deals with its first major post-Slate Strain engagement.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Legume_Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legume_Shadow/gifts).

> Dedicated to my beta reader Legume_Shadow because she has a thing for knife-wielding favorite characters.

“Fushimi!”

Fushimi stiffened at the sharpness of his name coming from Awashima's mouth. She was walking down the main hall way towards him. He stopped and stared at her through the large pile of binders, papers and folders full of the latest information, analysis and research, both from Intelligence and from his own reports in his arms.

“Research Division as well as the medics have told me they have not seen you since your return.”

He shrugged as best as he could with the pile in his hands and deigned to answer her statement. This was his third day without the crutches. His leg twinged on occasion, but it was well enough that he was able to go both up and down the stairs. It had been a relief to get rid of those cumbersome metal things. The bruises he had suffered while battling Gojo Sukuna had long faded, leaving him with the familiar aches and pains of the workplace.

He was going to go to the dojo to do some light warm ups and mobility stretches after dropping off the pile. The rest of Sceptre 4's Special Police Force and the swordsmanship teams were currently on their lunch break and it left the dojo empty during this time of the day.

Judging by Awashima's presence, he supposed he did not account for her to be back at headquarters owing that he barely saw her in the last week and half since he returned to work. They had only cross paths a few times, mostly late into the night when he was about to go off shift and return to his rooms. Apparently her meeting with the Silver Clan at the island high school was quite successful judging by the sureness of her steps each time she arrived to make her immediate report to the Captain. He never saw those reports, and suspected she had only been making verbal ones – perhaps on the Captain's orders.

He was not too put out by the exclusion; he would find out when it was time. And it left him able to concentrate on the cleanup of JUNGLE's base and the Strain outbreaks. The saving grace was that at least the well-wishing had finally stopped after a week of random people – people even _he_ didn't know – stopped by the office to welcome him back. He wondered if the captain specifically put him up to it. It was within the possibility considering Munakata's position. Leaders tended to have their own eccentricities. Fushimi was still rather annoyed by his captain's insistence that Hirasaka Douhan's powers were comparable to a ninja.

“The Captain's orders-”

“For those in the field,” Fushimi cut in, hefting the pile a little as he could feel the weight leaning towards the left. He minutely corrected it so that the stack was more centered. “I am not field-active.”

Awashima frowned for second, opening her mouth a little before closing it. She huffed a little in annoyance. A muttering sound issued from her mouth, too quiet for Fushimi to catch, but he thought he heard the words 'same as the Captain' issue from her lips. She sighed again and shook her head.

“You will still have to report to Research Division _and_ the medics for your fitness evaluation before you can be considered field-active. It is highly suggested you report to them before your evaluation so we have an accurate baseline to work with.”

“Thank you for your suggestion,” Fushimi replied before moving past her and entering the offices. He heard her splutter a little before following him in.

“There is already a visual record of my movements. If that has not been inferred already and reported to Research, then it is a disservice to their findings,” he pointed out as he set the stack down on his desk. He normally shared the space with Akiyama and Benzai's laptops, but since he had so many reports in the past week and half, he had taken over the whole table. He fished his laptop out of the bottom of the stack and set it on his chair as he sorted through the folders.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that a box had been left next to his chair. He brightened inwardly. It must have been only recently delivered since he had only been gone for the last hour or so. The General Affairs office archives needed some serious sorting. Zenjo had given him pointed looks as he had wandered around, looking for what he needed.

The box was probably the rest of the knives he had requisitioned in his expense report.

“Fushimi-”

“We know for a fact that healing of all Clansmen has been increased an average of 33 percent. Therefore, the Research Division can infer that 33 percentage based on visual confirmations and draw their own conclusions,” he looked at her. She frowned, crossing her arms under her ample chest. “I do not see the need for my report to Research Division until I take the exam.”

Her lips twitched, but she stayed silent, meeting his look with one of her own. He thought she would finally drop it until he the barest movement in her arms, tightening across her body. She was definitely not going to drop the issue.

“I do not know why you are so stubbornly insistent, Fushimi,” she started quietly. “We only wish to ensure that you are healthy.”

Fushimi did not answer as he moved his attention from her to the box and picked it up, setting it on top of his laptop and a few folders. A flick of his wrist produced one of his throwing knives into his hand and he made a quick cut to open the box. He sheathed the throwing knife just as quickly as he pulled the packing peanuts out. Several flat boxes of various shapes began to make themselves known as he pulled out one and opened it. The box itself was made of a styrofoam-like material, but inside was a beautiful set of throwing knives that he had been eyeing for a while.

It would have been poor form to say that he had been saving up his money to buy the set – considering he had several bank accounts full of the money from his childhood. It was more of waiting for the perfect opportunity to buy them than anything else. And if the Captain approved of them in his expense report – then it was a well-timed opportunity.

“We care about you, Fushimi,” Awashima was staring at the knives he had received, but flicked a look at him. He ignored her. “We want to make sure you're okay-”

“Why would I not be,” he cut her off again as he pulled one of the small knives – made like little darts. The balance was just a little bit more on the blade than the handle as he held one in his fingers. The blade itself was less flat and a little more full like an oblong-shaped stiletto. The whole thing fit neatly into his palm with the point just sticking out from the webbing of his fingers. These were built for emergency situations and for pinpoint accuracy. The quick sting when flicked for distraction, or creating wounds that initially look like small puncture ones, but if hit in the same spot, drove the blade deeper into the wound.

He played around with it, mindful of the sharpness of the blade as he tried to get familiar with its uneven weight. He was aware that Awashima was also staring at the motes of light that flickered this way and that as he flipped the small blade in one of his hands. He made it dance across his knuckles, though he could feel a slight slip and compensated by grabbing the handle quickly before it could slice right into the webbing of his ring finger and pinky. The weight was definitely something he would have to get used to.

He finally finished and set the knife back into its box. Setting that set aside, he dug back into the box and pulled out a larger styrofoam packing cube, this one much thicker and heavier. Awashima sighed, her ample bosom heaving.

“Please considering reporting to Research and the medics when you can, Fushimi. We'd like you back out in the field soon. Your presence and guidance has been sorely missed,” she finished before she loosened her arms to her side and headed out.

Fushimi clicked his tongue lightly at her words as she left. He pried open the heavier packaging.

“By the way, that is a beautiful set you brought. I hope it is put to good use,” Awashima replied before closing the door behind her.

He clicked his tongue again, a little louder, as he turned his attention back to the other set he had ordered. These were shaped like regular throwing knives, except they were a little larger and heavier than the average. Totaling eight inches, they had two and half inch blades which were shaped like wide spear points. It was supposedly for better impact accuracy and long distance throwing. He hefted it in his hand. It was definitely heavier than he was used to, but the balance was quite excellent unlike the small dart-like ones; he would have to test these out at the armory's range before he could use them in the field.

He set the knife back into the box and closed it, leaving it on his seat as he grabbed the container with the smaller knives along with his laptop. Luncheon for most of the divisions had already started and he would not get much time to do his strength and conditioning exercises before afternoon practice started for the other divisions.

He walked across campus and to his relief, saw no one occupying the dojo at this hour. He changed into his hakama and gi, making sure that he had his knives and holster still on him as he stepped onto the mats and bowed his head. He set the small box to the side and started to stretch, taking care to ensure that his healing leg was warmed up to the fullest.

There was the barest twinge when he slid to a front and then pivoted to a side lunge. He noted the initial movement and repeated it several times before he did not feel a single thing. He moved onto planks for several minutes before taking an exercise band and working with it. Most of the videos he found off of the internet stated that there should be someone professional looking after his exercise, especially after injury, but he deigned to ignore the advice.

He knew his own limitations.

He continued to stretch for another twenty minutes before finally feeling more limbered. His body felt lighter than yesterday's warm ups. Perhaps he could increase the amount of katas. He went over to the weaponry racks and picked up a shinai, hefting it in his hands.

He was never quite comfortable with the Sceptre 4 sabre, nor of the kenjutsu they studied. Each Blue Clansman were given their sabres in the initiation ritual, but most only learned bare-bones basics, or didn't even know how to defend themselves. Intelligence Division was one of the ones who normally used the sabres for ceremony, since they were not expected to serve in the front lines. But when he joined the Special Police Force, he took it upon himself to observe their practice sessions.

He repeatedly declined invitations to spar, preferring to learn by observation and by his notes. He practiced on his own, most of the time late at night when everyone was asleep, trying to adapt what he saw to fit his own already established street-fighting style picked up from his time with HOMRA and from the sheer boredom of trying to find something to do when that man was not in the house.

He supposed he acquitted himself well, as the first time he had officially drawn his sword and went into the field like the others instead of staying in the bearcat, he managed to block and even take down two low level Strains.

He did not consider the capture of the Minato twins to be part of the test. That... That particular incident was considered a declaration of whom he was – both towards HOMRA and Sceptre 4.

What he considered his real test came when he faced off with Misaki for the first time. That had both been a challenge and exhilarating fight that made the adrenaline rush he received from it justify both his changing allegiances to Sceptre 4, but also that he actually _liked_ wielding a sword – maybe not _the_ sword at that particular time – but a sword nonetheless.

He hefted the shinai again and settled in a ready stance. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself and fell into a ready stance with his right leg forward and bent. The wound did not twinge at all.

He went through the kata, rocking back and forth on his leg. Each swing of his shinai was accompanied by the centering of his weight on both of his legs, keeping his stance sure. He could feel the muscles sing and burn, but it felt good. Sweat slowly poured down his back, down his face, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose until he finally stopped.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart as he planted both of his feet side by side. He lowered his shinai and took another deep breath. He lifted his right leg and gingerly tapped his toes on the floor. It did not twinge a single bit. A pleased feeling ran through him.

“It seems like you're healing well, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata's voice broke through his thoughts and he turned, slightly surprised that he did not even feel the captain's presence.

It was stupid to be surprised, he reminded himself, the captain did not have the power of Blues flowing through him anymore, connecting all of them. That chastisement was followed quickly on the heels of a feeling he really did not want to identify and he locked it up quickly.

He shrugged in return before turning back, shinai held aloft. He fell into another ready stance, on his opposite leg and continued. He could feel Munakata's gaze on him as he continued with his katas. Stopping at the same number he had finished on his first set. He absently pushed his glasses back up his nose as he took deep heaving breaths. The sweat was definitely soaking into his clothes now and they felt quite grimy. He tapped his toes onto the floor again, testing the feeling. It did not twinge at all.

“Awashima-kun says you've not been to the medics nor Research since you've returned to work,” Munakata started conversationally and Fushimi only gave him a look before he turned to bow to the names and left the floor. However, he did not leave the dojo, suddenly shy of not wanting to move past the captain who blocked at least half of the entryway leaning against the door so casually.

Instead, he made his way towards where he had placed his laptop and small container of knives. He set his shinai down and sat down. Opening his laptop, he logged back into the Sceptre 4 networks.

“Ito Hajime in Research,” he stated without preamble as he continued to type with one hand. His other snaked absently towards the box of knives and he pulled one out, absently flipping it. The weight still felt off, but he angled his wrist a little differently to try to balance it out. “Sato Riku, one of the Riot Response Team members; Ogawa Saya, head Researcher, working indirectly with Ito's team on Weismann levels. Morita Haruhiko and Morita Ayame, both are Riot Response captains – husband and wife.”

He flipped the knife and caught it, absently flipping it again before closing his hand around it. He flicked his wrist and it went flying like the dart it promised to be – embedding itself in the wood of the dojo's doors, right next to where Munakata's shoulder was. He knew it was very rude of him to do such a thing in a dojo, but he really did not care. Etiquette around kenjutsu and the the dojo was not really him. It was only then that he looked up with a pointed stare. “Are you going to do something about them?”

He was rewarded with a smile and a gleam of eyes that reminded Fushimi greatly of the first time he had met the Blue King. Munakata adjusted his glasses slightly. “Perhaps.”

“Were they from before?”

“Ogawa Saya, yes, though I believe she was recently hired by my predecessor before his unfortunate passing. Brilliant woman, knowledgeable about the Weismann levels. Coded and helped create the computer program that enables us to monitor the levels.”

“She must have not been happy when you took over,” Fushimi pulled out another of the dart-like knives and flipped it a few times absently as he brought up her profile on his laptop.

“I interviewed her and back then she said she had no interest in who was the Blue King as long as she was able to continue to do her work,” Munakata replied.

“Was Research Division funded well by the Gold King?” Fushimi asked.

“Yes, that is where I suspect her discontent started to happen,” Munakata agreed, “when I took power, the funding nominally stopped. We were still publicly funded, but budgetary considerations and control were reviewed.”

“And now with the destruction of the Slate, she is more than likely not happy that her research will no longer continue or have a use in this post-Slate world,” Fushimi finished, with an annoyed sigh and soft click of his tongue. He threw the dart, and it landed right underneath the first one.

“Sato Riku, I believe his brother turned into a Strain. I am about to approve leave for him, but advising him to perhaps seek early retirement,” Munakata said. “The Moritas will be questioned.”

To Fushimi it meant that the husband and wife had not been known to the captain as malcontents. He frowned. This was troubling and rather annoying.

“And Ito Hajime?”

Munakata's tilted his head slightly as he reached over and pulled both darts from their shallow, but solid place against the edge of the door. He turned them over with his long elegant fingers for a moment. “Ah...I see the purposes of these...” he murmured quietly as he continued to slowly turn the darts in his fingers.

The silence went on for a few minutes.

Munakata suddenly pocketed the darts, to Fushimi's great irritation. The captain pushed himself off of the door and started to walk away. Fushimi wanted to tell the captain to return his daggers, but no sound came out. He closed his mouth.

“I leave Ito Hajime in your capable hands,” the captain called back before his footsteps faded away.

“Tch,” Fushimi clicked his tongue loudly. He was field-active.


	2. Chapter 2

Research Division's labs were on the other side of the cafeteria and across the campus of buildings that made up Sceptre 4. The cold winter air bit at Fushimi as he quickened his steps. Munakata definitely did this just to mess with him as well as to get Awashima's point across. Field-active, even before the official evaluation tests.

Of course it would be like his captain to do such a thing.

The mountain of reports that Fushimi had across his table would have to wait until later tonight after he was done reporting to Research. He was going to bill all of the OT and double shifts he was pulling to ensure that everything was done. Or just requisition a shit-ton more knives just so he could eventually turn each puzzle the captain did into a pincushion. Hell, if the man claimed that he brought his hobby to work, then Fushimi would do the same – knife-throwing was an excellent hobby.

Plus the captain still had two of his dart-like knives.

He yanked the door open to the labs a little more forcibly than he would, letting it slam close at the same time a gust of wind pushed at it. It startled one of the guards standing inside. Fushimi gave the guard a look, to which the guard cleared her throat and looked away, red coloring her cheeks in embarrassment. Shaking his head, he walked towards one of the two office manager's rooms on either side of the initial hallway. He knocked once before opening the door.

“Yes who is- oh, Fushimi-san!” The receptionist was a man with a mousy face and thin eyebrows. Small reading glasses were perched on the edge of his nose and he looked like he had a bunch of different forms he was trying to process. “We've been hoping you would stop by-”

“Fitness evaluation,” he cut in curtly as the man started to reach for a form. “Nothing else.”

“Uh...but...” the man – with a name tag of Takahashi – blinked. “Fushimi-san-”

“Make it private,” he continued, overriding whatever splutters or excuses the man was trying to come up with. “Close door evaluation and no one else knows about it except for the Captain.”

“S-Sir...we...uh...w-we are under orders to ascertain anything related to the teams sent out on missions-”

“It's a fucking fitness evaluation,” Fushimi pressed, “not a post-mission evaluation. The Captain's orders only apply to those who are on mission. Surely you know the difference.”

“Y-Yes...”

“So?”

Takahashi twitched before relenting and pulling out the correct forms. He sighed and started to write down the necessary information. It was a few minutes of silent scribbling as Fushimi nearly loomed over him. He let his gaze roam to the paperwork the man was compiling and it looked like a lot of data entry for the reports that were coming from the field about both JUNGLE and cataloging of the Strains. Most of the reports made were digital, but more often than not, there was always paper versions for quick notes or things that observed and at the time unable to be digitized.

Whomever said they were getting close to a paperless society was an idiot.

“Here you go, sir,” Takahashi set his pen down and handed him the form. The paper version was mostly a formality – majority of the form was digital. The paper one was if the instructor wished to make any observations that they may have forgotten – or if they were one of the few who still liked to take hand-written notes.

“Tanaka Reika, Kyoda Ayato and Yamada Rin will be evaluating your fitness,” Takahashi's fingers flew over his keyboard as his face lit up in reflection of the blue-hues of his computer screen.

The names were familiar to Fushimi as he nodded once.

“Room B-23,” the office manager finished before looking up at him. “D-Do you know the way?”

“Yes,” Fushimi replied before turning on his heel and heading out of the office. He walked further down the hall and took the elevator down to the basement level. The room was a few paces away and it was one of the more spacious evaluation rooms. Small weights, a training dummy and a few practice swords were put towards the side. There was a blackened section of the wall, a permanent fixture from repeated use of evaluation of candidates. There was a small window that was slightly tinted opposite of the blackened wall. It was the observation room where specialized equipment would be able to monitor Weismann levels and also other minute things like rate of breath, perspiration among other things that helped evaluate a candidate looking to return to the field.

Most fitness evaluations were planned in advance, so Fushimi took the time to study his surroundings. The room was a little colder than he liked, but he supposed he would be working himself into a sweat soon enough if they put him through the paces.

This was not his first fitness evaluation – having undergone one right before he had been formally inducted by Munakata. They had tested his competency with his fighting skills – the hidden knives had caused a minor scandal considering Sceptre 4's preference for swords and _only_ swords – tested his physical fitness and even was surprised by his ability to call up the Red aura when he had officially defected to Sceptre 4. That was probably the bigger scandal and the whispers would not stop even as those evaluating him gossiped like typical office workers.

It was not the first time he had heard the word 'traitor' bandied about – but what had been surprising was the whispers also called Munakata's competency as a king into question.

Those whispers were soon silenced after the Minato twins' capture revealed a lot of the enemies in Sceptre 4 that were against Munakata's kingship.

It took about twenty minutes for all three to arrive and Fushimi was already bored. He absently tossed one of his regular throwing knives up and down as he leaned against a wall, waiting for them to arrive. The first one was Tanaka Reika – a tall woman with her hair cut into a bob. She wore the typical labcoat, but there were stains on one of the pockets. An old one judging by the faded blue – a pen must have exploded in her pocket. She nodded at him, holding her PDA by her side as she waited for her colleagues to come.

The next was Yamada Rin who all but skidded in. He looked like he just had finished eating judging by the crumbs and smudges on his fingers and was holding a clipboard. He looked around before smiling and picking up the form that Fushimi had left on one of the nearby weights. “Thank you Fushimi-san!” he replied, before patting his pockets.

Tanaka sighed and pulled out a pen from her pocket before handing it to the absent-minded scientist.

The last of the researchers came in, grim-faced and serious-looking. Kyoda Ayato was rather reed thin and looked like he did not quite want to be here, but considered it part of his duties. “Fushimi-san,” he greeted curtly. “Shall we begin.”

“Oh! Who's doing the readouts?” Yamada asked, but even before anyone could answer he grinned again. “I got it!” He turned on his heel and started to leave. “I work better writing things down anyways! Good luck, Fushimi-san! And welcome back!”

Tanaka only sighed again before glancing at Kyoda who gave her a wordless glance.

“Let us begin,” Kyoda intoned. “Officer Fushimi Saruhiko of the Special Police Force...” A PDA all but materialized into his hands as he began to making scrolling motions with his fingers. “...was on injury leave for three days owing to injury received in the line of duty. Was prescribed antibiotics and returned to work after three days. Was pain medication taken during this time?”

“Anti-inflammatory,” Fushimi replied as he pushed himself from the wall and walked towards them. He clenched and unclenched the muscles in his legs and arms to loosen them up a little bit. He was still feeling rather light from his workout just a couple of hours ago, even after showering and changing back into his uniform.

“Noted,” Kyoda tapped a few parts of his PDA. “Any change in diets or habits during your leave?”

“No,” Fushimi replied.

“There is no record of a medical evaluation after your return from work – was it appended?” Kyoda frowned.

“No.”

Both researchers glanced up at him before Tanaka shrugged and made a few notes with her fingers dancing across her PDA. Kyoda, apparently the more vocal and emotive of the two sighed and rubbed his eyes almost tiredly.

“All right, we'll begin with...” he sighed and his fingers made more scrolling motions. “Your average the last time you took a fitness test-” Kyoda stopped, frowned and blinked. “Tanaka-”

The woman silently turned her PDA towards her colleague and both had bemused expressions before shrugging at the same time. A click of the microphone coming to life filtered through the room.

“Err...Tanaka-san? Kyoda-san?” Yamada sounded confused.

“Last fitness test was right before his installation ceremony,” Kyoda replied.

“Oh, okay – that's great Fushimi-san!”

Fushimi rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue at the sheer cheerfulness in the researcher's voice. He could practically see the smile on the man's face even without facing the tinted windows of the adjoining observation room.

“Are you done, Yamada-san?” It seemed Kyoda was also annoyed as he gave a brief withering look back towards the observation room.

“Instruments all set. We can proceed,” Yamada chirped back before the click of his microphone indicated he shut it off.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. He could never understand why the researchers found such a gap in between his tests so fascinating. He was technically Intelligence, even if he was part of the Special Police Force. There were members of the Intelligence Division who had the same exactly gap in their fitness tests. Hell, there was even the ten-year gap that even those on the Special Police Force had between Habari Jin's death and Munakata Reisi's assumption of the Kingship.

“We'll be basing your fitness off of your last testing, but will account for the current state in which your colleagues' fitness levels are,” Kyoda cleared his throat a little.

Fushimi raised a silent eyebrow.

“You haven't heard?” Kyoda blinked. “Endurance levels threshold have been lowered by 15 percent. Healing has been capped at roughly 33 percent greater than before the Slate's destruction. There are some variances and discrepancies, but for the average, it is what we've noticed in the Special Police Force.”

The click of the microphone activated. “We'll be taking in those percentages and applying it to your fitness levels from previous and hopefully average a baseline for you, Fushimi-san.”

“Let's start with shuttles. Fifty please,” Kyoda gestured for him to take his place on the grounds.

Fushimi did so and the tests began.

“Fifty meter sprint.”

“Thirty lunges.”

“Swordsmanship Form 21 if you will.”

“Distance jumping.”

“Ten planks.”

“Forty pushups please.”

“Swordsmanship Form 10.”

“Two laps across the room please.”

“Another distance jump.”

Fushimi landed rather shakily in the last distance jump, his whole body aching. His healing leg twinged heavily – it had hit its limit with the non-stop movement. He nearly lost his balance and only steadied himself with his scabbard rammed into the floor. His breath came in great gasps and hunched over even as he accepted a water bottle shoved into his face. By his estimates, it was at least an hour since he had started.

He drank greedily, chugging it all down before wiping his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. He would have to change into a cleaner version back in his room before returning to the main offices. But it was required that the fitness tests be conducted with the uniforms on for a good measure of real-world scenarios and maneuverability. Out of the corner of his eye, as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart, he watched as the silent Tanaka tilted her PDA towards Kyoda. She had a frown on her face and he noted that the more talkative of the two researchers also had a frown on his face.

Kyoda murmured something so quiet that even Fushimi could not pick it up, but Tanaka shrugged and turned back.

“Are you ready to continue?” Kyoda asked and Fushimi nodded, setting the bottle down.

“All right, we'll move onto the Weismann phase section,” the researcher started and Fushimi pressed his lips together.

He supposed it was inevitable.

He had not taken one back during his first evaluation, the researchers unsure of how to compare his Weismann levels from HOMRA to before he was even officially installed as a member of Sceptre 4. He did show them he was able to call up the Red aura, but they had little to no comment other than uncomfortable looks passed around. Fushimi thought it was a little more petty than that – they didn't want anything HOMRA on their internal records except for actual members of HOMRA – and on a threat level record instead of personnel. He personally thought the joke was on them – as he had proven to wield both Red and Blue auras and there was nothing Research could do about it after his installation save for a request to the captain for him to re-take the test.

That would have been quite a public embarrassment to Research Division.

“Based on your previous recorded Weismann levels in the field, we'll use that as your average and test the latency as well as the development of it. We have noticed some drops in a few members of the Special Police Force, but they seem to have been leveling out in similar fashion since the lack of the last King, Habarin Jin.” Kyoda cleared his throat again. He flashed a grimacing smile. “Now then, you are authorized to draw your sword. Please channel your power through and hold it for thirty seconds for us to get a good read.”

Fushimi sighed and pushed his glasses up. They slid down during the whole exercise and the sweat pouring down his face was doing them no favors. They slid a fraction again as he clicked his tongue and grasped the handle of his sword, but did not draw it.

“I can't access it,” he said, staring at them.

Kyoda and Tanaka blinked, shock flitting across their features.

“Wait, what?” Tanaka finally spoke, having not said a word even when she first arrived. Her frown grew deeper. “You cannot or you're not willing-”

“Can't,” he gave her a look, wondering if she was deaf.

Her jaw opened and her mouth worked a few wordless sounds before she glanced back towards the observation room.

The hasty click of a microphone filled the room. “I am not reading _any_ Weismann levels at all.”

“Even those in the Riot Squad who lost their powers still had minor bare minimum readings-”

“I am not _reading_ any, Tanaka-san.” From where they were, they could see the shadow of Yamada shaking his head. “They could be suppressed, but we've never had a case like this, or maybe the instruments are wrong, but there is nothing-”

“Ordinary humans have at least a murmur of Weismann levels! That has been established as fact since the publication of the Gold King's research notes! Animals have Weismann levels! Even those who are not located in the Kanto region have them! We have established that Weismann levels exist outside of the Slate! This cannot be-”

“I'm telling you, I'm not reading _anything_. It's like he's a void or something-”

Tanaka suddenly screeched and shoved her PDA into one of her pockets before storming out of the room. The door slammed closed behind her before Fushimi saw her shadow open the door to the observation room. She shoved Yamada to the side and looked down at whatever monitors was in the room. A few seconds passed before she looked back up and Fushimi met her gaze impassively. Even with the tinted windows, he did not miss the stricken look on her face.

He did not know why she was suddenly so passionate before she seemingly slumped down into the vacated chair, shaking her head. Yamada apparently took the time to say something to her, his hands gesticulating before she looked up at the other man and her whole body heaved a sigh.

She leaned forward and the click of the microphone made itself known. “Fushimi-san, you've passed. You are within the new average we have established with the rest of the Special Police Force. Aside from...” she coughed, unable to finish what she wanted to say. Instead, she cleared her throat. “We will give our consent to field-active duty, but...”

“We'd like for you to return to conduct some more tests,” Yamada took over, his tone hopeful. “If you do not mind, we'd also like to share this with our colleagues.”

“I _do_ mind,” Fushimi interrupted. “This is for the Captain's eyes only.”

“Yes, but...we'd only share it with one of our colleagues. I'm sure you've heard of the esteemed Dr. Oogawa Saya. She would be interested in the Weismann levels-”

“No,” Fushimi cut him off.

“But sir...”

“Fushimi-san,” Kyoda suddenly spoke up. “What if your colleagues, what if others in the Special Police Force suddenly experience this...unprecedented phenomena? What if this is the result of the destruction of the Slate? We'd like to reassure the Captain-”

Fushimi twitched. He clicked his tongue and picked his sword up, placing it back onto the latch on his belt harness. “No,” he insisted.

“S-Sir...” Yamada pleaded.

Fushimi stared at the two in the observation room. He let the silence fall for a few long seconds. “...Fine,” he finally relented. “Only her.”

“O-Of course,” Yamada bowed his head. “We understand that such a...loss-”

Fushimi stare intensified into a glare that he raked at the three.

“-Excuse me, such a...a...”

“We will be discreet, Fushimi-san,” Kyoda bowed his head at him. “Please have faith in us.”

He stared at Tanaka who had fallen silent. She stared back at him, her eyes still stricken and he wondered why she had such a look on her face. Did she actually pity him or pity the fact that he had no Weismann levels so to speak of? Did she pity the circumstances? He held the researchers' gazes for a few more seconds before nodding and headed for the door. He did not look back at them as he left and walked down the hallway, headed back up to the ground floors. The only thing he allowed was a small smile to appear on the corner of his lips as he adjusted his glasses.

The trap was baited.


	3. Chapter 3

The office, for once, was actually empty – he had even checked Fushimi's desk and found no sign of his third-in-command or laptop – when the report came through to Munakata. It was encrypted and marked for his eyes only. He ran the decryption program that would allow him to read it and a rueful smile appeared on his face. So this was Fushimi's ploy to deal with the Ito Hajime problem. One would have called it rather brazen, but only if they knew what they were looking for. Subtly was overrated in this case and Munakata could see the end result.

Still, he flagged the report so he could keep an eye on it. It was clever of Fushimi to put such a piece into play. Clever, bold and like his actions with the Minato twins, would more than likely reveal more than the initial batch of malcontents that were lurking in Sceptre 4.

Munakata logged out of his workstation and glanced at the clock. He supposed he was already a few minutes late. Getting to the dinner was going to make him fashionably so. Heading out of the office, he acknowledged the bow and greeting of the driver that was to take him to the restaurant. He had been sent an invite three days ago from the prime minister. It was a conciliatory gesture; to 'patch' up their relationship. But Munakata knew it was more than likely another public relations move following his reinstatement.

The restaurant suggested was rather high end and definitely not for the average public sector worker. He had only been there once and it was before he became a King. He had been a civilian office worker then, working for one of the international branches of a well-known company. He rose through the ranks quickly, becoming a Vice President that reported directly to the Chief Financial Officer. The restaurant visit had been a chance for the board and branch members to meet.

The food had been delicious, the company, not as interesting as he had hoped. A lot of glad handling, drinks and some times forced camaraderie. The one thing that struck Munakata during that dinner meeting was that their regional CEO, also seemed rather bored, constantly on the company PDA or taking calls. It was the CTO, COO, and CFOs that led the rounds of drinks and salutations to the guests visiting from overseas. He remembered that the regional CEO had a frightening reputation of being almost ice cold and rather aloof. Work was the CEO's supposed passion and a reputation of practically living in the office – no known family to speak of. Even friends were mere acquaintances and considered colleagues – at least that was the rumors spread.

Munakata remembered the CFO speaking to him during his annual review about how he had once, almost seen the CEO look for a minute, quite vulnerable. It had been taking a call, to this day, no one knew about, but definitely affected their leader. Soon after, Munakata had left that world – the power of a King causing him to hand his resignation to the company before taking control of Sceptre 4.

He did not miss his previous life.

But he allowed himself the minor indulgence of memories of long ago as they arrived at the restaurant. It was like watching himself in another life, just a young man who by his own intelligence was promoted to vice president in blinding fashion.

“Thank you, Amano-san,” he said to the driver who nodded as a valet opened the door for him to step out. “Please take an hour break at this time if you will. I expect to not be detained for more than two or three hours at most.”

“Sir,” the driver nodded, a small smile on his face at being allowed such a luxury before he drove away to take his break.

Munakata steadied the hilt of his sword as he walked in, nodding to the _maitre d'_.

“Captain Munakata,” the man was rather young, but there was a crisp competency to his bow and the fact that he instantly recognized him. “I am Seki Hironobu at your service. Your party is expecting you. Please let me guide you to them.”

“Of course, Seki-san,” Munakata appreciated the deference, but could see that the young man clearly enjoyed his high position and was quite proud of it. They wound through paths of various tables and diner. Whispers trailed his wake and Munakata put the most bland expression of a smile on his face.

It would be like the prime minister to do such a thing, making him walk all the way near the rear of the restaurant. It was to ensure that many saw _him_ walking in, walking towards the table to greet the prime minister because _he_ had been invited. After all, he was very publicly reinstated at the same time the Tokyo Legal Affairs Bureau, Civil Registry Department, Annex 4 was announced to have authority in quelling the situation involving JUNGLE and the recent outbreak of those with powers.

All of it had been announced at the impromptu press conference, inviting the deluge of questions and trying to explain to the world what it meant to have powers, how did they manifest, and all sorts of headache inducing things. It was a PR nightmare. And through all of it Munakata had kept his bland polite smile, playing the good little government employee who was glad to be back confidence with the prime minister.

Inwardly – he seethed.

This was _not_ how Sceptre 4 was supposed to be used. It was normally the other way around, but Munakata knew such a public press conference was not the way to gain the upper hand. The only saving grace was the prime minister had left the dissemination of information to Sceptre 4. Which meant he was able to slowly drip feed the information he felt the public needed to know and left it at that. But even that was not satisfactory – he needed to reassert Sceptre 4's dominance over the Prime Minister – to make the man understand that what he had done, could not _ever_ happen again. Sceptre 4 was there to protect the government and the prime minister's attempts to smooth things over while _trying_ to also gain power was not good for either branches. This dinner invitation however...

He was led to a round table on a slightly elevated dais that seated twelve. It was among several others that also had diners sitting around it, talking and laughing gaily. The table was near a corner and eleven seats were already filled. Munakata kept the bland smile on his face as he looked around those that sat at the prime minister's table. He recognized most of the faces. Some were mentioned by Awashima in her report after the failed attempt to secure a list of those who were at the JUNGLE announce party. The others were rather prominent businessmen in the whole of Japan. There were only two women at the table.

“Ah, there he is, our guest of honor, Captain Munakata!” Prime Miniter Samukawa stood up and stepped away from his seat as he approached. The man gestured for Munakata to sit by his right side as he pulled his chair out. “Seki-san, please start with the courses. We are certainly famished for the excellent service and food this establishment provides aren't we?” The guff of laughter was echoed by some of the others, some a little more loudly than Munakata expected.

He supposed those that had been known to publicly support JUNGLE were very nervous. This was apparently their attempt to get into Munakata's good graces and also more than likely to seek the prime minister's protection. Munakata relished that opportunity – to turn the tables on them. But...he would have to pace himself. There was no need to quickly upend the order of things – that was so very like Suoh Mikoto and the Red Clan. He was the Blue King...he was order and patience incarnate.

“Munakata-san, err...Captain-”

“Saito-shi,” Munakata allowed himself to drop the bland polite smile for one a little more genuine as he reached over to grasp a hand that reached out to shake his own in greeting. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you as well,” his former boss, the CFO of the company he worked for sat back, “you've risen up in the world. Working directly with Prime Minister Samukawa here?”

“Of course,” Munakata replied with a rather icy politeness as he sat back down. “I have occasionally sought clarity from the Prime Minister and he has given me leeway in such matters.”

There was a slight choking laugh to his left as the prime minister hastily swallowed some of the champagne he had been sipping. “Ah, I did not know you knew the Captain here, Saito-san!”

“He was a young up and coming Vice President for the company I used to work for before life in the public sector called to him,” Saito Akihito was a middle-aged man with greying hair and narrow, almost closed-eyes. However, Munakata remembered that they were sharp, picking out finances, trade deals, anything and everything that made him such an invaluable CFO. He had been an incredible bargainer and left a good impression.

“You left?” he asked. It was rather unheard of in most of the working culture, but he supposed because they were an international company, perhaps more of the western view of 'job hopping' was considered.

“I started my own company. We run financial risk analysis and have been doing well for ourselves. Our clients vary from the military to independent contracting to companies like some of whom we serve here,” Saito smiled and Munakata saw that he looked quite content.

“I'm glad and happy for you,” he replied with absolute sincerity. Saito merely nodded at the compliment before Samukawa cut in again.

“Well, let me also introduce our other guests here tonight for this dinner party that was arranged. It is my hope that all will find common ground and hope that you will be reassured tonight. Please feel free to ask myself or the Captain here any questions you have regarding recent events.”

Munakata plastered the bland smile back onto his face. So this was the prime minister's ploy. Making sure those who had connections to him would be getting preferential treatment or at least give the impression that whatever their needs in wake of the destruction of the Slate and mass hysteria of Strains would be met first. Any and all of their problems were to be priority on Sceptre 4's list – was what the prime minister was saying to him without ordering him outright.

He was introduced one by one to the ten others, including one of the two women whom he was pleased to find out was still the regional CEO of the company he and Saito used to work for. She looked like she did not recognize him and he did not expect her to. They had only met once, in this restaurant, and he was still a very junior Vice President back then – sitting towards the end of the table instead of the head. The other woman was one of the more influential television station producers and he knew he would have to take great care with his answers. There were still things about Sceptre 4 that needed to be kept secret for the sake of the public. Even the prime minister could only scratch the surface of whatever knowledge he had of Sceptre 4.

The first course was served and Munakata found the food to be quite good, if a little too rich for his tastes. He took careful measured sips of the champagne, noting that some of the others ordered beers or hard alcohol.

“Captain Munakata,” a slightly heavy-set man with a shiny forehead leaned slightly forward. “What can you tell us about the incidents of people supposedly with powers that some are calling something like out of science fiction? Superpowers? I fear that some of my employees have them and while others have called out sick, claiming it is contagious.”

“It is not,” Munakata dabbed his lip as he set his napkin down. “Our Research arm has assured me that these...superpowers, as you call them, are not transmitted by touch or any other method.”

“Then how did they come to be? We saw the uptick in the last month allegedly, but then suddenly there was a spike just a little over two weeks ago! Will there be another one? Will it settle?” The woman who worked in television asked and Munakata twitched slightly. He really did not like television people. They pried too much and nosed around. He wished he could like them, as they were very excellent investigators, but the nature of their business made him inherently dislike their ability to ferret out secrets.

“We believe it is settling.” He left it at that.

“Your bureau has previous experience in this?” This time it was Saito who asked, genuine curiosity coloring his question.

“Yes,” he replied, “we have been studying the phenomenon for a while now,” he replied carefully.

“How long is 'for a while?'” the TV producer cut in.

The man next to her glared and she sat back, blinking as she realized she was acting quite rude. Munakata merely sipped his champagne as the next course was brought out.

“There are records that we are still going through year after year as we study this phenomena. I have learned that supposedly it was a dormant state, but something awoke it.”

“What is this...it, you talk of, Captain?” another man asked.

“I cannot say,” Munakata replied and left it at that as he carefully cut his food and ate a small piece. “We are currently doing all we can to help those who have these...powers as you call them.”

“What do _you_ call them?”

It took a little amount of effort for Munakata to not let his bland smile turn into a rueful one. The question came from his former CEO and he met her sharp-eyed gaze with his own. This time, unlike the last he had met her, she was not seemingly adopting a bored expression and on her PDA. Instead, she was staring simply at him with a calculating look.

That same look he had seen time and time again on a certain favorite officer.

“Strains,” he replied.

One elegant eyebrow rose up as she tucked in a strand of her dark hair. There were small strands of silver in it, but she had not looked like she aged a day since he had left her company.

“We believe the term comes from a long ago study that might have divided the individuals into categories owing to perhaps shared similarities or something of that nature. Those who did not conform were a strain of variations and grouped together into the colloquial term, Strains.”

“You make it sound like a disease, Captain,” Samukawa laughed hesitantly, bringing nervous smiles from the others except for a handful, including the two women, Saito and one other businessman.

Munakata shrugged as he continued to eat. “We honor previously made agreements and conventions if they are deemed within reason. In such language, I do not see the difference.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both women, Saito and a couple of the other prominent businessmen who had not been affiliated with JUNGLE try to hide their laughter at his words. What they took out of it, Munakata could only speculate, but he had a feeling that perhaps they were of the same mind – that Samukawa had somehow riled or maneuvered them into a situation where he was now attempting to get back into their good graces at the same time.

Served the idiotic man right.

“Is there anything we can do to help them?” Saito asked and Munakata noticed an interesting reaction among the group. Some of the business leaders visibly started, leading him to suspect they were more than likely thinking of ways they could used the employees who had powers to their advantage.

“We have developed some resources to help Strains cope with their emerging powers and we do register them in our database-”

“Isn't that a violation of their civil liberties?” The TV producer cut in.

Munakata dabbed his lips as he finished the course in front of him. “You may be thinking of more western-style influences. The registration is for our own purposes of ensuring we can provide any help we can for the Strains. We have noted some grow into their powers and like any ordinary citizen, become a productive member of society. Some, unfortunately, take full advantage of their powers and turn to a life of crime.”

There was a visible murmur of shock that flitted through the table and Munakata knew he had finally pressed upon the point of worry for many of the guests. They were worried about their company, their families, perhaps even themselves. The fear of such an unknown entity, with so many unknown factors – and he was well aware that the recent news of Strains stated as such – it pervaded among them.

And it was only the most natural order of things.

The prime minister laughed lightly again, trying to relieve the new tension that had risen among the diners. “Surely you cannot register all-”

“We try our best,” Munakata smiled toothily at the man next to him. He could see the small beads of sweat on the man's face; noted that his armpits were starting to darken a little from perspiration. It was easy to put together the pieces – either the prime minister or someone he was close to had been turned into a Strain.

“I'm more bothered by the fact that who knows how these Strains can affect people. Are we looking at those who can read minds? Those who can influence minds? Or even those whom the military of the world can recruit and turn into weapons? What of weaponizing them-”

“Sagawa-san, you're overthinking it too much. Too much science fiction novels and you're going to say we're about to have the apocalypse!”

This time most of the table did laugh. Munakata allowed himself a small smile in acknowledgment. People did tend to let their imaginations run wild without the right facts. The conversation turned away from him after that comment and Munakata allowed himself to enjoy his meal, relishing the chance to not answer questions for the moment. A quick glance up showed his former CEO pulling out her PDA and scrolling through it, quite bored again now that she had her question answered. Saito was gesticulating with his a hand over something that excited him, his almost-closed eyes turned upwards.

With the alcohol flowing and the food coming, tongues were far more freer and the initial seriousness of the conversation had taken a lighter turn. Munakata took the time to observe the others around him. The endgame for the businessmen and women around him was still not known, but he was content to let things stand as they were. The main thing he took from this was their names. They would be names and businesses useful to him. He would not put them on any sort of priority list, but there was likely a reason why the prime minister chose these ten men and women. He would have to check his calendar for the next month or so to personally visit them.

If there was no major incidents with Strains.

But then again, Munakata knew he was at best, a common soldier, at worst, a liability in the field now. Granted, his own swordsmanship was excellent even before he became the Blue King, the destruction of the Slate – perhaps even before that when he ran Suoh Mikoto through – put his own mortality into sharp relief. He knew he would have to be more cautious now that he did not have the power of Kings. He did not need any testing to be done to know his own limitations now.

The Blue aura which he had once reveled and flowed through him was gone now. He was not so indulgent as to say he mourned the loss, but it had felt like a trustworthy partner had been taken away from him, leaving him to metaphorically look over his own shoulder now. He could have almost described the Blue as...companionable, if he wanted to put human characteristics towards it. It was not fickle, but it was there, a comfort if needed, a force to be reckoned with if riled. In the moments Munakata was sure his Sword would drop, it had been a raging tempest, railing at him for his failures, mocking him for being unable to control it, but most of all, rejecting any and every attempt for him to placate, to negotiate. It rejected his ideals of order and in so many words, told him to go fuck himself.

And when the Slate was destroyed, he felt its passing. Like a part of him had been ripped away and left him as ordinary as the day before he became a King. There was blood in the waters now. And he knew the sharks were swimming about. The sharks inside Sceptre 4 and those that sat at this table.

The service and dinner continued. The man sitting to Munakata's right excused himself, heading to the restroom somewhere between the serving of the fourth and fifth. He had been drinking several shots of hard alcohol. Munakata accepted another glass of champagne just as Saito got up and took the seat that had been vacated.

“Ah,” the man declared, setting his own glass down as he pushed away the plate and started to stack the empty glasses of alcohol left behind. It seemed to be the the event that broke down the last barriers of formality from all those around the table as people suddenly pushed their chairs back a little or turned to their neighbors to talk. “Finally, we are able to talk in less formal circumstances.”

Munakata could not help the small bark of laughter that emerged from his lips. Saito was as acerbic as ever. He toasted the man with his glass. “Such is the seating arrangements we are meant to endure.”

“Elegant as ever, Captain-”

“Please, Saito-shi, we've known each other for far too long,” he admonished gently.

The narrow-eyed man nodded. “As you wish, Munakata-kun.” He sipped his own glass of champagne. “I see your love for events such as these is still as great as ever.”

“As is yours,” Munakata replied. “Though your deftness in navigating such waters has not dulled in the last few years since we last met.”

“I'd like to think of it as a skill that ages like fine wine,” his former mentor replied. “Though it is good to see our former CEO here and know she is still quite influential.”

“I take it you have business arrangements with her?”

“Yes,” the man replied. “She graciously accepted my resignation and creation of my own company and we have a mutual partnership which I am able to help her manage the company's funds, portfolio and analysis of such market trends.”

“Numbers were always your strongest suit.”

“And navigating this little minefield is yours.”

“Oh?”

“Don't give me that, Munakata-kun,” Saito shook his head. “You _enjoy_ this. I can you're already thinking of ways to utilize them. I don't know for what ways it would benefit your department, but ways nonetheless.”

Munakata laughed lightly. “You know me well, Saito-shi.”

“And I'd like to think I know you well enough that it is not a coincidence you are here. Your position is one of high risk and responsibility, is it not?”

He hesitated for a second before nodding. This was an old friend. “Yes.”

Saito seemed happy to be given such an affirmation as he sighed and downed the rest of his champagne. He rolled the stem of the glass around his thick fingers. “You carry yourself differently since we last met. A more...confidence and assuredness that I had only seen the beginnings of. Perhaps military, but not quite.” He gestured absently towards the sword that still hung from Munakata's side. “One could have called it an old fashioned throwback to the heydays of the long ago wars we fought, but in this case, I get the feeling that sword had seen use.” He stopped rolling the glass. “And it makes one such as myself wonder what kinds of threats the Strains are if you are to face them with steel instead of guns.”

“We will advance with sword in hand, for our cause is pure,” Munakata murmured quietly.

“A beautiful motto,” Saito acknowledged it with a brief quiet nod. They both turned at the shadow of someone out of the corner of their eyes and saw his former seatmate walking back, but pausing for a moment to see the new seating arrangements. The man bowed his head slightly with a sheepish smile and went to sit in a vacated seat next to their former CEO. Even before the man could turn to talk to her, she brought her PDA up to her ear and excused herself from the table, walking away while talking into it.

The man looked quite crestfallen, having now no one to talk to as everyone else was engaged in conversation.

“She is as ice cold as ever,” Saito murmured before clearing his throat. “I must confess I did have an ulterior motive for seeking you out.”

“I thought as much,” Munakata nodded. “I am the guest of honor and there are many who wish to seek my audience and have questions answered or reassurances given.”

“I was at the launch of the JUNGLE app party a few weeks ago as we were seeking out the latest technology to utilize. However, with their CEO missing, and dare I say, absent from this esteemed gathering, I am not sure how to proceed.”

“Yes, it is quite interesting that the prime minister did not invite JUNGLE's CEO to this. I would have thought him to be an influential member. I was told he and the prime minister were great friends.”

Saito's smile grew slightly. “That answers one question of mine, Munakata-kun.” His smile dimmed. “However, it does not answer my immediate problem. My information technology team had begun the process of integrating their systems per the prime minister's directives, but now, we are finding ourselves unable to uninstall it or return to our previous infrastructure.”

“Not in the information technology sense, I take it?”

“It's as if something is...alive in it. Utilizing our resources. I have questioned my technicians, but this has even baffled them.” The man scratched the back of his head before a hesitant expression flitted across his craggy features. “By your descriptions of Strains, as much as I am able to infer, could something have affected perhaps one of my technicians or even the creators of the JUNGLE app for such a thing to happen? Is it possible for such an application to be...alive, perhaps utilizing a power of sorts like a Strain?”

“I am unsure,” Munakata confessed, “but that is something we are currently looking into. I will-”

He stopped as a sudden commotion followed by the clear, loud sound of glass shattering, drew everyone's attention. It was at a table near the entrance and Munakata watched with some fascinating trepidation as a woman stood up, anger clearly written across her features.

“How dare you!” She screeched, bringing all conversation in the restaurant to a halt.

The _maitre d', _rushed from where he had been greeting an incoming couple towards the commotion, but Munakata felt the ghost of a stirring – a lingering remnant of the powers that he once had – before a more visual and visceral confirmation happened. He reacted on instinct, trying to grasp the remnant threads of his power, to give him that extra boost-

And somehow _it_ flowed through him. He stood up and grasped the edge of the heavy round table. Lifting it, he sent it flying towards the angry woman just as a bright sickening yellow light engulfed her.

She exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if Munakata's background has been explored in the side novels or manga, but I'm just basing this off of the anime adapted version of Side: Blue where he was dressed in a business suit in a plane before becoming the Blue King.


	4. Chapter 4

The blare of the emergency siren made Fushimi want to bury his head underneath his pillow and ignore it. “Fucking hell...” he muttered as the piercing wail seemed to grow louder. He gritted his teeth before opening his eyes and glanced at his PDA. The digital clock screamed only nine-thirty at night. Fushimi groaned and rubbed his eyes.

He went to bed almost immediately after he clocked out; exhausted after several days of arriving early and working late into the night. He finally managed to get through the month's worth of backlog of reports done just before he had gone to General Affairs this morning. After the day's events, including taking the fitness test required for being field-active, he was bone-tired.

And he technically only got forty-five minutes of sleep.

He sighed, burying his head into his pillow and let out a yell of frustration – drowned out by the sharp blare of the alarm – before pushing himself up, jamming on his glasses and climbed down from his loft. He was going to slowly murder the Strain that woke him up – if the captain did not say anything first. Or maybe this was done to spite him after the captain casually mentioned he was field-active. Either way, someone was going to get knifed if they got in the way. He quickly changed, securing his harness, knives and sword before he threw the door open and marched out.

“Get moving!” he shouted, pounding on the door across from his own.

It hastily opened, revealing a very sleep addled Enomoto and Hidaka. Enomoto was trying to secure his sword while Hidaka tripped over the hem of his pants as he hastily belted it. Both had come off of their rotational twelve hour shift just two hours before Fushimi had gone to sleep.

“Sir! Coming sir!” They shouted as Fushimi walked down the hallway, pounding on the doors that weren't opening.

He avoided Akiyama and Benzai's room, the two currently on shift at the JUNGLE base excavation site. They would not be joining this raid, but would have already received notifications and patch in as a secondary command post.

He walked down the stairs, members of the Riot Squad streaming past him as they hurried towards the vehicles. He arrived at the garage in short order and saw Awashima directing personnel this way and that. Munakata had not arrived on site yet and Fushimi looked around, wondering what kept their captain.

“Fushimi!” Awashima called out and he approached her. “Operational command has been authorized. I will be handling ground forces-”

Fushimi frowned. “Where's the Captain?”

“This involves him,” Awashima gestured for him to follow her as they both climbed into the Operations bearcat. The door closed behind them.

Fushimi noted that Sawano Sakura and Sakimoto Miyuki were the other occupants. They both had bright smiles in greeting, even in the face of the glare he shot at them. Sakura he understood, even for all her stuttering, but Miyuki was definitely not suited for field work. Why was he here again.

“They volunteered,” Awashima provided by way of explanation as the bearcat roared to life and started to drive towards the scene.

“This involves the Captain?” he prompted.

“We received a report from a civilian who had been at a restaurant the captain was supposed to be dining at, but managed to flee and call the police,” Awashima replied. “She reported an explosion engulfing the restaurant, but noted that preceding it was an unusual glow.”

“Could it just be someone's rave party,” Fushimi stated, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

Awashima ignored his comment and brought up her PDA. “The explosion occurred about twenty minutes ago. Police arrived ten minutes after and are currently coordinating a perimeter. We will be taking over the investigation.”

“And we're still taking over.”

“The unnatural glow described by the civilian in the initial report cannot be discounted. There is also the fact that the prime minister had invited the Captain to this dinner tonight. Supposedly the guest list is a lot of prominent businessmen and women. The restaurant is also known for its clientele – the rich and influential.”

“All on a government worker's salary,” Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance as he crossed his arms. “It's not even election year and the prime minister is spending like it is.”

“We all can't demand a refund of our taxes,” Awashima replied rather dryly.

Fushimi snorted. Sarcasm was something very rare from Awashima. She was usually serious and literal, taking her position as Sceptre 4's second-in-command with a high amount of pride. Her sarcasm was some times indicative of the state of her mind – and in this case, she was rather worried. He accepted the transfer of files from her PDA to his own as he flicked a thumb over the notes that had been transmitted by the driver. He could not discount that this was a ploy against the captain's life or even against his kingship – especially coming so close to the destruction of the Slate.

But what it was, first and foremost, was likely a Strain gone rogue – and a hostage situation.

The screech of tires and the slowing of the bearcat indicated that they had arrived at the scene. Awashima opened the door even before the vehicle had come to a complete stop and hopped out. Fushimi followed quickly behind her.

“Weismann level readings,” he called back.

“O-On it!” Sakura's fingers flew across the keyboard and the screens lit up. “We're getting readings – Three Beta levels and four Common class detected so far.” At the same time, his PDA pinged with the data. He activated the projection of the restaurant's layout with the dots and location of the Strains.

A Beta and Common class were clustered next to each other while the other two Common class were on the opposite sides, one towards the front, the other towards the back. The only two that were not clustered near each other, but perhaps sitting near one another were the two other Betas.

“The attackers,” he surmised quietly as he stared at the map. It flickered a little and he glanced at his PDA. Perhaps he had forgotten to charge it, but the battery read at least eighty percent. He ignored the flickering as he held the map away from his body to let Awashima and a couple of others look. Some had their own maps open so not to crowd around them, but they were standing at attention, waiting for orders.

“Lieutenant, operational command has been formally transferred over,” Kamo hurried up to him. “The police are currently maintaining the perimeter until we get our forces into place.”

“Good,” Awashima replied before activating her comm line, “Riot Squads Two through Four are to hold the perimeter.”

There were short curt 'yes ma'ams' from the squad leaders as the Riot Squad members passed them, swords not drawn, but held by their sides as they started to replace the police line. Fushimi saw his map flicker once more and tapped the edge of his PDA.

“The Captain is more than likely inside,” Awashima started without preamble, making everyone except for Fushimi start in surprise. However, instead of a barrage of questions, their discipline won out and they merely nodded.

“As is the prime minister,” Awashima continued, explaining the situation to the others, “this was a dinner invitation that was received several days ago. There are also probably a few prominent businessmen who have joined them, so this is a very delicate operation.”

Fushimi suspected Awashima had been asked by Munakata to attend the business dinner with him, but she had either deferred or refused. It made sense, since the lieutenant would have known or tried to memorize the names of those who were at the party even if the list had been destroyed. It would be like the prime minister to attempt to save some face and get into Sceptre 4's good graces once more.

He got a ping on his PDA from Sakura. “We're on media blackout.” At the same time, his PDA flickered again.

“Good,” Awashima nodded, folding her arms under her chest. “Here's the plan. Kamo, are you familiar with restaurants like this one?”

“Yes, ma'am,” the man replied.

“What are the probable exit points besides the one in the front and back?”

“There should be a rooftop exit, for smoking breaks. There may be a side entrance we haven't accounted for.”

“All right,” Awashima pursed her lips for a moment, “Fuse, take the sniper perch on one of the bearcats. The rest of Riot Squad One is yours to command, but I want them on the rooftops of the nearby buildings. Plan to cut them off or cordon them if the Strains make their move. Hidaka, you and Goto head to the back. Take Riot Squad Five with you. Domyoji and Enomoto, you're both with me, we'll handle the front perimeter with Riot Squad Six. Fushimi-”

“Reconnaissance,” Fushimi interrupted and shut the projection off before he walked towards the lines. He could almost see the slightly annoyed frown on Awashima's face, but didn't care. He was good at working alone, with or without his powers.

“We'll send in someone to see what the demands are before we make our move. Our goal is to ensure that this is resolved peacefully. We can't be charging in. You are not weapons free unless it is an emergency,” he heard her say.

He opened his incoming line and muted his outgoing line to continue to listen to the briefing. All the while, he casually stepped past one of the Riot Squad members, but moved towards the shadows in between the unlit areas of the structure.

Judging by the large windows, it was a beautiful cathedral-ceiling restaurant, with crystal chandeliers hanging this way and that. They swayed above what was clearly smoke or something that obscured a lot of the windows except for the higher elevated parts. Something exploded inside...

He clicked his comm line open as he casually leaned against a nearby brick wall, hiding himself in the shadows in between the lights. “We're going to need infrared. There's a lot of smoke here. Something exploded and is obscuring the windows. May be powers similar to the fog the Grey King had. The smoke doesn't look like its dissipating.”

“I'm running analysis,” Sakura's voice cut through.

He muted his line again. From his vantage point, he could see the valet and parking lot. There were people, probably the personnel, standing around. They were breathing, that much was for certain, but why weren't they running towards the police lines or even anywhere else puzzled him.

“Fuse,” he activated his comm. “Look at the parking attendants.”

“Getting there,” was the slightly irritable and breathless reply. A few seconds passed before Fuse spoke up. “I'm seeing...what the...”

“Report!” Awashima ordered.

“Lieutenant, there are...floating knives? I think they're knives floating in the air that are pointing at the parking attendants- Oh shit-!”

Fushimi reacted on instinct and flattened himself to the ground even as his eyes tracked the sudden whistling sound and movement of several dozen knives that materialized in the air and launched themselves towards where Fuse was upon on the sniper perch.

He saw the flare of a blue shield as Fuse tried to defend himself against the incoming attack, but then the shield and the man were falling from the perch. Cries of his name flooded the comms and Fuse's pained shout was echoed by the loud crack as his body hit the top of the bearcat. It was not a long drop, but Fushimi knew the man had broken something.

“Scatter!” Awashima ordered across the comm as the whistling sound echoed eerily in the night air and the knives that materialized flew around. Riot Squad members that had been holding the perimeter suddenly ducked, covering their heads as the knives flew overhead like a deranged flock of crows. Flickering of blue repelled some of the knives that were attacking, but they fizzled and faded. Some screamed as the blades cut through them before they seemingly turned and attacked others.

“Fall back! Squad Two and Three fall back!” Awashima shouted. She drew her blade and threw a beam of blue that disintegrated several of the knives flying through the air.

From his vantage point, Fushimi could see blue shields raised up to try to protect members of the Riot Squad that were retreating. However, he did not follow as he glanced at the parking lot. The attendants had fled in the commotion. He made his decision and pushed himself off from the ground, sprinting as fast as he could before the whistling sound stopped.

He only got to the middle of the lot and ducked behind a car as the knives came flying back. Pulling himself tightly into a ball and hoping he had not been spotted by whomever had made those knives fly inside, he breathed a sigh of relief as the knives passed him without seemingly noticing his presence and disappeared into thin air.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he glanced at his PDA and brought up the map again. There was no movement, so how did anyone outside of the fog-like substance clouding and obscuring the ground floor know what they were doing? The map suddenly fizzled a little and Fushimi frowned. It had happened three times since he had arrived...all-

Wait a minute.

Fushimi quickly brought up the log history of his PDA and noted that each time stamp since he had arrived on site was a little longer than the last. But they were evenly spaced out... He opened the log of the latest glitch and saw a string of numbers. They did not make sense...unless he divided it by the length between each one and realized what was happening.

It was not a glitch.

The captain was trying to communicate.


	5. Chapter 5

Munakata casually folded his arms across his chest as he stared at the scene before him. He was hoping his third attempt at contact was a success as he shifted against the column he was leaning against. He was quite mindful of the floating knife that hovered just at his chest level. It would do him no good to provoke the Strain that conjured the knives seemingly from thin air. Not with so many hostages and a rather volatile situation at hand.

A rejected suitor.

_Ah, young love_, Munakata wanted to say, but in reality, the situation was quite...stressful. The young woman had some kind of heartbreak or something happen – he wasn't too sure of the details before she had literally exploded with anger. Her suitor, was still sitting at the table, but with blood running down his face. He had sustained a cut when she had lashed out with her light-based energy powers. But, that was not the surprise: no the one that had immediately countered the energy lashes was the woman's brother, who had summoned the knives that now hovered in the air. It seemed the brother cheated with the woman's suitor – or perhaps it was the other way around – Munakata could not quite make the details out among the screams and screeches of name calling and all sorts of attacks on each other.

What he did know was that they were all now apparently hostages as the brother threatened to kill them if his sister did not relinquish something or another – the details weren't making themselves known in between the name calling. Four others in the restaurant – due to the stress of the situation – activated their Strain powers. One of whom was obscuring the windows with some kind of smoke-like fog in a nervous reaction.

Another was the prime minister's own revelation to be a Strain. His eyes glowed yellow and he had expressed his loud relief at Sceptre 4's arrival – which had prompted the knife-conjuring Strain to attack Munakata's men.

They all saw the faint blues of shield and the frantic shouts of retreat before all went silent again. The prime minister had the good sense to shut up and look rather embarrassed as everyone around him glared. Munakata himself only gave the man an arched look as he attempted to contact Fushimi again.

And as if he had summoned him there was a soft tapping sound that emerged from his comm line on his jacket. Munakata smiled softly as he deftly lowered the volume on the incoming line, his hand covering the disguised button, but pressing it towards his own chest so he could at least feel its vibrations. To any ordinary person, it looked like he was just adjusting his arms into a more comfortable position.

[Rtrt] Fushimi tapped out in shorthand. [Knf atk ijry]

Munakata frowned inwardly. Sceptre 4 had deployed and true to what he heard and saw, the faint blues of Sceptre 4 had formed a perimeter, taking over for the red-blue sirens of local police. But it seemed the knife-conjuring Strain had attacked them. One or several more members had been injured in the unexpected attack. The more pressing question was: how? How did the man attack when there was a fog all around them, obscuring at least a majority of his vision?

[Cvln strn 3 atv] He tapped quietly back, making sure that his index finger was not moving as overtly as possible resting on his chest. Three active civilian Strains – the two siblings and the one conjuring the obscuring fog as far as he knew. [Lvr qrl] He added belatedly.

The immediate lack of a buzz against his palm and shoulder was followed by Munakata almost hearing the ghost of a clicking tongue and imaging of a dark glare. He did not have to confirm that the lack of silence from his third-in-command was indicative that Fushimi was baffled with his last two short-handed words.

It was a few more minutes without the lack of a the buzzing comm as Munakata watched the two quarreling siblings yell at each other some more. Munakata knew there were probably those who wanted to interfere, but the safety of the civilians came first.

[Bk etry] Fushimi suddenly tapped out.

Munakata slid a discreet glance towards the kitchens and his own vantage point versus what he supposed the siblings could have seen.

[Psb knf pt] He replied. It was a possible escape route, the only problem was the knife-conjuring Strain. Somehow, he had been able to see and strike without really seeing.

[Stdby] Fushimi tapped out.

Munakata breathed a quiet sigh as he watched the knife hovering at his chest level lazily turn and float in the air. The buzz against his hand signaled Fushimi's next message. [Nbr]

[100 – sm ijry] There were a hundred others in the room, counting the waitstaff and guests. He did not count himself nor did he count the fact that there was one other person missing from the original eleven others that sat at the table with them. It seemed his former CEO had left the premises before the the whole thing started. Perhaps she was the one who had summoned emergency services. The only comfort he took was that at least she was not among those who had sustained some injury the resulting explosive attack.

The table he had thrown to intercept the woman's initial lash of powers had protected most of them. A few of the businessmen sustained some minor cuts from the shattering pieces of wood falling around them. But it had sent all of them diving for cover or scrambling to escape. But none of them got far when the knives had been conjured and held at their throats. Behind him, Saito had suffered a stab wound when a piece of the wooden shrapnel pierced his upper arm. It took some effort for Munakata to not kneel next to his old friend and help bandage the wound – too aware of the knives that could lash out at them for any perceived movement as one unfortunate hostage had tried earlier.

That woman was now lying on the ground with several shallow, but sharp cuts. The only benefit – if he was being very kind – was that the two siblings seemed to be at an impasse, the woman refusing to unleash her powers while her brother had hostages. He supposed it was a small comfort that she was at least aware that there were innocents around.

The lack of an immediate buzzing against his palm told Munakata that his third-in-command was trying to think of a plan or at least letting Awashima know of the situation. He had provided as much information as he could and turned his attention back to the quarreling siblings.

“Hikaru...come on,” the apparently lover of both siblings pleaded quietly again. “Please...you don't need to hold these men and women hostage...”

“You're suggesting that I let my _wonderful_ sister kill me on the spot? Even she knows that if all these men and women die, she'll get blamed. You said so yourself, she has a history of gaslighting everyone and anyone. She'll find a way to turn the tables if I let a single person go-”

“Hikaru-”

There was something that brushed against the ghost of a feeling he thought might have once been his powers as the Blue King. It almost felt...electric. Ah, so they were going to go with _that_ plan. A reckless one, but considering the circumstances and amount of people, it was perhaps the quickest and soundest way to end things. However, Munakata did not react towards the presence that seemed to be above him and instead continued to focus on the conversation.

“No Daisuke.” The man, Hikaru, stood firm. “I'm not letting my dear precious sister have her way again. I'm done letting her pretend that she's the victim here when she's always and has been the perpetrator. Mom and Dad have always let her have her way because she's the precious little girl that they've always wanted. Never me, never the unwanted son.”

“Son-”

“Don't fucking start _Dad_,” the man glared at his father who was rooted to his seat by a knife turning lazily near his chest. “You always wanted a little girl just because the family never had one. Well, you want one now? Here you go, your precious little Rin.”

“Shut up Hikaru. You're nothing but a spoiled little brat who didn't know how good he had it! I worked my way-”

“Fuck off, you're nothing but a spoiled brat!”

[Rdy]

“Look who's fucking talking-”

Munakata cleared his throat rather loudly and stepped forward. He casually pushed the sharp knife away with a gentle finger as all eyes focused on him. The knife immediately zipped back towards his chest of its own accord. “If I may-”

“No! Shut up and stay out of this mister!” Hikaru snarled with a sharp glare. “Make another move and I'll gut you-”

“Hikaru!” the mother gasped, hands covering her mouth in shock.

Munakata merely smiled and took another step forward, eliciting an angry growl from the other man. He was not impressed by the level of the glare. He knew a better man with a far more expressive range.

“I said stay back!” The knife inched closer and Munakata noted that the knives held on others were starting to move away from them. He took another small step and the knives moved further away from the others, all starting to point at him.

“I'm sorry, but I cannot do that,” Munakata did not draw his sword, but rather held his hands loosely by his sides. “You see, I am bound by the office of the law that if there is danger, I must do everything in my power to prevent tragedy from happening.”

“I'm warning you-”

Munakata adjusted his glasses. “I beg to differ. This is _your_ warning, Hikaru-san.” He pinned the man with a look before glancing at the woman who was starting to glow a sickly yellow. “As is a warning to you, Rin-san.”

“Who the hell-”

“We of Sceptre 4 are men of the sword and we keep order in this world of chaos.” He stepped slightly to the side as Awashima landed from above in a perfect three-point landing with her sword already drawn and pointed at the two. A blue shield erupted from it at the same time the side doors and back entrance was suddenly filled with members of the Riot Squad and the rest of the Special Police Force. Blue flickering of various strengths immediately shielded all ninety-nine patrons and staff members.

Hikaru screamed and the knives went flying this way and that with at least several flying towards Munakata-

At the same time Rin lashed out a sickly yellow wave-

Munakata would have normally announced the draw of his sword, but the movement was so fast that he forewent the usual formality and took the step forward to intercept the blades coming towards him. His draw was swift and cut through one knife, before deflecting another off of its path, and felt the breeze and sharp sting of the third one cutting through his cheek- just as Awashima's shield expanded, disintegrating the rest and blocked the yellow wave from hitting the two of them.

Cries of efforts echoed in the room as the members of Sceptre 4 tried to block the flying knives, the blades breaking apart against the varying levels of power-

And it was only by virtue of watching both Hikaru and Rin that he caught the tiny glint of the smallest knives – darts even – flying towards both when suddenly, the siblings collapsed into unconscious heaps on the ground.

The knives clattered to the ground before disintegrating into wisps of metallic-looking ash and whatever explosive power Rin had disappeared into thin air like a power cut from its source.

“Secure them!” Awashima barked and Munakata saw Fushimi emerge from where he had been hiding behind the front entrance doors, the shine of his throwing knives disappearing into his holsters. Fushimi joined Enomoto who had been closest to the two. Both brought out the power suppressant cuffs and secured them on Hikaru and Rin.

“Secured,” Enomoto called out. The hauled the semi-conscious Strains up. Both had lost looks on their faces and Hikaru struggled for a moment against Fushimi's grip. However, something was whispered into the man's ear before he paled considerably and went limp, allowing himself to be led out without any more fuss.

“Lower shields,” Awashima ordered and the bluish hues disappeared as both the Riot Squads and Special Forces started to stand down. “Sir,” Awashima turned to him.

“Good work,” Munakata replied with a grim smile, “please continue your efforts here.” He turned and saw the prime minister's eyes glowing yellow. The man's face was suffused with red and it was clear he was actively trying to avoid looking at Awashima, but judging by the flickering of his eyes back and forth, it seemed he was not too successful. Munakata could only guess at what the prime minister's powers were. “Prime Minister,” he took a deliberate step forward and blocked Awashima from the man's gaze. “Perhaps we should get you looked at. One of my men will escort you.”

“S-Sure...” the prime minister stuttered as a member of Riot Squad Four approached and took the man by the arm and escorted him towards the entrance.

“Captain, what do we do about the other Beta and Common-class?”

He turned back to face her. “Our usual procedures, but please note that like the prime minister, they only reacted defensively. We have no need to treat them like criminals. Please also tend to their wounds if they have any.”

“As you wish,” Awashima nodded curtly. She looked like she was about to leave, but hesitated. He waited patiently for her to speak. “Sir...”

“Yes?”

Awashima shook her head. “Nothing sir. Just a suggestion to perhaps see to a medic when you can sir.”

“Ah,” Munakata touched the lingering sting of where the knife had cut into him. His fingers came away stained with blood. “Well, thank you for your concern.”

“Captain,” she nodded again, sheathing her sword and went to help direct the cleanup.

Munakata turned to look at Saito who was being helped up on shaky legs. His old friend waved an absent hand at him; short-hand between the two of them that he would recover and was fine. He nodded at his friend before sheathing his own sword and made his way through the restaurant towards the side door. He exited and glanced to his right. Just as he suspected, the familiar silhouette of the Green Clansman known as Hirasaka Douhan stood in the shadows. She was fiddling with her PDA.

“You are now J-rank.” It was a question, but he did not word it as such. She glanced up, her expression smoothly professional as he approached.

“Back to U-rank, but I was for a moment there.” She had a faint sardonic smile on her face. “I took it in lieu of immediate payment.”

“How mercenary,” he replied.

She shrugged. “I also happened to be nearby when the reports came in.”

He immediately understood her intentions – she had been called by Fushimi to implement a risky, but emergency plan and he had given her whatever was left of his own JUNGLE points to see if her powers still worked. But there was still a grain of truth in that lie of omission.

“Your report,” he stated.

“Mishakuji Yukari,Gojo Sukuna and the parrot Kotosaka have been located. However, they've made it clear that they do not want any sort of interference.”

“For what?”

“I was unable to determine the parameters of their missions at this time.” The corner of her lips quirked up in a crooked smile. She fiddled with her PDA some more. “I've sent you last week's worth of coordinates along with the times I was able to interact with them.”

Munakata nodded. “Thank you for your efforts.” She had done exactly as he had asked and he knew that unless he paid her again, she would do no more. However, it was more than enough for now – new data for Intelligence to analyze as well as an interesting factoid about the three missing J-rank members.

She nodded once before the green glow of her familiar portal started to surround her. Small arcs of green lightning lapped the edges. “Oh,” she started once more. “That thing you asked me to look into per our other agreement?”

“Yes?”

“There's been talk, mostly by other U-rank members. The lower ranks have been occasionally forced to give up their powers – seems like they're taking the JUNGLE thing quite literally and hunting each other for now. However, the bounties are still active. All of them.”

Munakata merely stared as she left, sliding into the ground before the last wisp of lightning indicated that she had once been here. He pressed his lips together as considered Hirasaka's last words. There was no immediate threat to Fushimi, especially as a J-rank member, but he did not discount her words. He sighed quietly and adjusted his glasses.

It was time to bring his third-in-command into his plans. But first...there was still an more immediate matter to tend to – and he would start by talking with two members of Riot Squad Two and Three.


	6. Chapter 6

Fushimi rolled the two dart-knives – coated in same substance that had been in the so-called failed gaseous grenade – in his hands. It worked even if he had not expected it. He had been ready to follow up with his actual throwing knives, to injure and incapacitate the two Beta-class Strains. The grenade was unable to take down Beta classes, so why had the knives been so effective?

“Fushimi-san!”

He sighed irritably and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he pocketed the two knives. He would have to bring them to Intelligence later to be analyzed. Sakura's readings were usually accurate, so why had the substance worked now? Stepping towards the members of the Research Division that were in charge of processing post-engagement analysis, he stopped in front of the white-lab coated researcher that had called him.

Hidaka stood nearby and beyond him, Awashima and Kamo. All were attended to by a couple of the researchers. At least one of the two was holding a portable reader that was supposed to measure Weismann levels while the other asked questions and made notes. He did not see any of the three that had been at his fitness test earlier in the day.

“Fushimi-san, I'm-”

“Don't care,” Fushimi cut in, clicking his tongue irritably. “Let's just get this done. What do you want to know?” He wanted to go back to sleep. The report could keep until tomorrow morning and if the captain or anyone else, including Intelligence, needed it at the moment – well, they could go fuck themselves.

The researcher gaped for a moment before glancing back and Fushimi saw another man approach. He had a high brow and bright eyes that shone with interest. A pair of glasses hung off of the tip of his nose, one of the more trendier ones of not having wireframes around them, making him look like a westerner than anything else. He held a portable scanner designed to measure Weismann levels.

“Fushimi-san,” the man's voice was quiet, almost fatherly if one could call it that – Fushimi wouldn't know what fatherly meant considering _that_ man – as he approached. “I'm Ito Hajime, one of Ogawa Saya-sensei's lead researchers.”

_Well...that was quick_, Fushimi thought as he slid his glare towards the scientist. It explained the bright-eyed look and interest in the man's eyes.

“I was alerted to your...circumstances,” the man had dropped his voice a little, mindful of the fact that the others were in the same examination area. “This is my colleague, Kotosawa Yuusuke.”

Fushimi only stared. He was not impressed if Ito Hajime was attempting to soften the blow of the loss of powers. To Fushimi, Ito was doing piss poor job. He clicked his tongue and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose once more.

Ito cleared his throat lightly in the awkward silence that followed. “If you would permit me, Fushimi-san, perhaps-”

“Your report would be quite succinct, I would think,” Fushimi muttered, “if you just put down exactly what happened. No discharge or activation of powers, just the offensive use of two knives coated substances that was able to disable the two Strains.”

Ito pursed his lips, his bright eyes dimming for a second before he nodded once. “I could, but I would like-”

“No,” Fushimi arched an eyebrow. “The fact that you know of-” He stopped as flicked a hand in a vague manner. “Indicates to me that what was supposed _to be kept secret_ is now not.”

The assistant, Kotosawa, froze while Ito's lips turned down in a frown. Fushimi gave them an icy look. “I am not participating anymore in this. You write down what I said.” He took a step forward and grabbed the tablet Kotosawa had been taking notes on along with the stylus. He scribbled his signature at the bottom of whatever the form was before slamming the tablet back against Ito's chest. At the same time, he let the stylus drop right into the man's pocket – while his other hand deftly dropped a small listening device into the man's other coat pocket and activated it.

“I'm done.”

With that, Fushimi walked away, aware of the stunned silence that followed him. He did not need to know that confusion had engulfed the other Special Police Force members as did the other researchers who were taking notes. For all they knew, something was going on with him and in that respect, Fushimi hid the tiny smile at the corner of his lips.

_Game. Set. Match. Your move._

* * *

_Ping! _The distinct noise that he had flagged a certain report on activated. Munakata smiled – the trap was ready. It was time to put the other pieces into play and wait for it to be sprung. And whom it caught, well...the more, the merrier in his opinion.

* * *

The knock on the door to Fushimi's room came fifteen minutes after he had left Research Division's main labs and headed back to the dorms to finally sleep. He had been ready to turn off the lights and was even sitting on his bed with his glasses already set aside when the knock came. He stared at the blurry form of the door.

The rap was gentle, three knocks. “...Err...Fushimi-san...” Hidaka's voice was muffled.

Fushimi debated whether or not to flick his lights off to indicate that he wanted to be left alone. He knew that the light from his room was spilling out of the crack from underneath his door. He glanced at the clock – it was one-thirty in the morning. He wanted to wake up at six in the morning. But before he could reach over to turn off the light, there was a shuffle of feet.

Good, Hidaka was leaving-

“Fushimi-san,” Hidaka's voice was a little louder, but still quiet. “I...I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I...well...this...er...” The older man stuttered a little and fell silent.

“We...don't know what circumstances have befallen you, but we can guess,” Enomoto's voice suddenly piped up, quieter than Hidaka's but no less resolute. “I...Research told me that compared to my shift reports about three, no about seven hours ago when we went off shift from the excavation site and from the fight against the Strains, I might have lost at least twenty percent of my strength. They...” Enomoto took a deep breath, “they are trying to keep it optimistic that I'll be able to regain my powers if I get some sleep before taking over in the morning, but...”

“...Enomoto,” Hidaka sounded mournful. “...You'll-”

“Truth is, I think my powers are fading and, um, I guess I'll be of the first ones of our division to not be able to call up the Blue anymore and protect everyone...” Enomoto overrode whatever platitudes his roommate was about to say in a rush.

Fushimi heard the sorrow in them. He stared at his blankets, his fists abruptly clenching together in a sudden surge of furious anger. How dare...

“We...um, we can only speculate your...circumstances, but- If...if you want to talk about it, um, just...we're here for you, Fushimi-san. You don't have to go it alone...” Hidaka murmured. “You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. We're here for you, okay?”

“You're a strong person, Fushimi-san,” Enomoto added quickly, “stronger than I could be. The fact that you were able to get us the needed information when none of us could approach the building; we were able to plan our assault. The fact that you were able to communicate with the captain; you are more valuable than any one of us. You're strong even if you don't have-”

“Shh!” Hidaka cut him off before he could say anything else.

Fushimi's fists tightened beneath his blankets until it hurt his knuckles. He clicked his tongue irritably and wrenched the light shut before flipping over his blankets, curling in on himself.

He could hear the shuffling of feet outside of his door for a few seconds before the click of the door opening across from his own told him that both had returned to their room. Served them right, he thought angrily as he closed his eyes. Sleep came fitfully for him.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning came too soon and left Fushimi rather disoriented and groggy, but he pushed past his exhaustion with a generous helping of black coffee. A quick stop by the medical wing revealed that Fuse was still sleeping off the medications given to him for his broken arm and dislocated shoulder. Fushimi flagged the subsequent data the medics had compiled for the captain and headed into the office.

No one else was there except for Ayame who was dutifully washing the floors. “Good morning,” he murmured towards her as he carefully picked his way through still-drying spots and mindful of the cleaner parts of the floor.

“Good morning, Fushimi-san,” she returned the greeting with a smile and nod as she resumed her cleaning. He sat down at his table, setting his laptop down among the pile of reports and papers. He noted that Ayame had cleaned around the box of larger knives he had received the day before and that she had dusted, but avoided messing up the piles he had created.

There was, however, a folded piece of paper sitting in between one of the piles. He picked it up and read it quickly.

[Riot Division had a lot of spilled condiments this morning and a call for a shattering of ceramic-wares. It was noted that this was after a call from Research Division's extensions. Hiro-san is still cleaning it up.]

Fushimi slipped the note left on his desk by Ayame as she hummed to herself and continued to clean the floors, moving slowly out of the room. Judging by how fast she was moving the note was left only fifteen minutes ago. Hiro was one of the early, but not graveyard shift cleaners. It meant that the broken ceramic-ware was probably called in a little over an hour if not just under an hour ago. He knew he could not go to the Riot Division's area at the moment without having it look rather suspicious. He would have to question the cleaner later perhaps on an equipment check of sorts from Intelligence.

Ayame would not report something so mundane unless there was something more to it. She was very sharp-eyed in that respect.

However, he knew he could narrow down what had happened and opened his laptop. Pulling out a pair of headphones, he plugged it into the jack and brought up the program that linked the bug he had planted on Ito's jacket last night.

He was hoping perhaps Ito or someone was involved in the shattering of ceramic-ware. Something had startled or moved several researchers and riot squad members into action.

He rewound the record of the bug and started to listen. At the same time, he brought up a fresh new after-action report form and started to type his version of yesterday's events.

The first few minutes were crinkling sounds, cloth rubbing against the microphone – movement by Ito, more than likely walking somewhere.

“It is as I suspected,” Ito's voice was calm, but there was the smallest hint of excitement in it.

“...But sir...”

“Come now, Kotosawa, sympathy for the Hidden Weapon User? I expected different of you.”

“It is not sympathy, sir, but...”

“He was responsible for _that_ particular incident.”

“I know,” Kotosawa's voice was tight with an emotion that Fushimi could not identify, but he frowned as he continued to listen.

They were definitely walking somewhere, there was no mistaking the tapping of feet against floors. Judging by how loud their voices were, they were the only ones where they were walking – empty corridors then, late night.

“The Captain should have known better than to take HOMRA members or even traitors like himself back in”

“But I heard he was undercover-”

“And there you go, more sympathy.”

“It is not, sir. But the Captain-”

“May still be Sceptre 4's Captain, but a Blue King no more. He has no more authority and he should have stepped down like Shiotsu-san.”

“But sir-”

“This only proves the Weismann levels are dropping. Slowly and rather unsteadily from the numbers we've been getting, but they are dropping. We will soon be powerless like the others and become nothing more than a regular police force-”

“The Strains...”

“The fact that his trump card, the Hidden Weapon User is also vulnerable, well...we are all for the better. It will send a far more effective message too.”

There was a rustling sound, then something creaked – perhaps a door opening and closing. It was confirmed with Ito's next words.

“It was as you had said earlier, Kyoda-san. Even now, I was able to scan him discreetly and he was not showing _any_ Weismann levels.”

“Did he submit to answering his endurance levels?”

“No,” Ito sounded disappointed. “But he was quite uncomfortable with the fact that we knew.”

Kyoda made a slight keening noise of distress. “Well...shit. He's going to end up figuring out it was either me, Yamada or Tanaka that told you. Did you really have to tell him that, Ito-san?”

“How do you figure?”

“I told him that I would only share it with Ogawa-sensei.”

“Well, there you go. She and I have been seen sharing information, it should be as easy-”

“You forget, did you not realize what he did with the Minato twins?”

“All the way back then? Preposterous and you're only inferring. No, he was only brought into hunt them down because the Captain knew he was getting the short end of the stick from HOMRA. Of course he would bring in a stray mutt like that and attempt to tame him. Still a rabid dog considering the stunt he pulled. Captain's just got a soft spot for him – or maybe even got something over him.”

“...You don't think...”

“Could even have a thing for younger men at this rate. It is well known he is the Captain's favorite. I mean look at a majority of the Special Police Force. Almost all, if not everyone except for Zenjo-san, is younger than him.”

“Hey! I won't hear for that kind of slander, not even if it may be true or not. You keep those thoughts to yourself Ito!”

“...Fine.” Ito made a noise in the back of his throat. “We'll all be out of a job soon enough. The Gold King is no more, the Blue King is powerless. We are losing our powers and we will have no more while all he has Ogawa-sensei is looking up JUNGLE and getting their power levels. Meanwhile, there are Strains out there who can kill us! Who don't seem to be showing any power fluctuations! There were three Beta classes tonight, and three Common classes. Three! Normally only one or two and even then rare. The Captain got us into a fine mess when the Slate was stolen out from under his nose!”

“We all heard that transcript, Ito,” Kotosawa sounded cross. “I don't believe it-”

“More sympathy, why?”

“I don't like this-”

“Then you can go!”

There was the sound of a door opening and slamming close. Then two muffled sighs.

“You don't mean that to Kotosawa-kun, do you?”

“No...but I wish he was more decisive.”

“It could be fear, Ito. The fear of losing powers, even as feeble as Kotosawa's own, scares some of the others. Even Tanaka-san was terrified. She could not believe what the scans had shown from Fushimi-san.”

“Tanaka is a weak-willed woman. I have no idea why I had hired her. Good thing she's able to distract Ogawa-sensei with her hysterics.”

“She is quite sharp, mind you,” Kyoda's voice had a hint of warning in it. “You're too reckless right now, Ito. For crying out loud...”

“What...”

“You do remember what happened when the Minato twins were captured?”

“Those ingrates deserved to be strung up by the Captain. They were idiots.”

“And who captured them?”

Ito scoffed. “...I know...”

“And who is now back on duty?”

“...Shut up...” There was a rough-sounding sigh. “Should have moved in the days after the Slate-”

“We couldn't know, Ito. We couldn't. There were so many unknowns, and we were all alike in mind in trying to find out what it meant. And now-”

“We've lost our chance.”

“No,” Kyoda sounded like he was scolding a young child. “We bide our time. We be good little researchers-”

“For fuck's sake! I don't want to wait-”

“You _will_ wait, Ito. Or so help me, I will tell a particular person what you plan and you will be _alone _in taking the fall for it. I know how _he_ thinks. I have his records and I know he is considered Captain Munakata's number three for a very particular reason. He is _Intelligence_. Have you forgotten that?”

“He's a little shit, that's what he is. The arrogance of thinking he could take on the aura of three colors. What the fuck was the Captain thinking-”

A long silence descended and Fushimi furrowed his brow as he adjusted his headset and listened carefully. There were sounds of slightly elevated breathing – something was happening.

“...Shit is that...”

“Fuck! When...? Oh fuck, oh fuck! That examination-”

“We need to move now.” The urgency in Kyoda's voice was unmistakable. “Thanks to your idiocy you're leaving us with only one option.” There was a venom in the researcher's voice that belied the calm countenance he had before. “Get rid of the evidence. Get the others mobilized. We need to move before the rest of Sceptre 4 awakens or this gets reported.”

The rest of the sounds were gargling and incomprehensible noise that Fushimi lowered the volume and set his headset down onto the table. They discovered the listening device. It wasn't cleverly hidden, so he expected it to be found. He clicked his tongue quietly and pushed his chair back.

“You can come out now,” he called out in a lazy drawl as he stood up.

The doors to the main office opened behind Fushimi and he heard the distinctive click of a safety being taken off of a gun. He flicked his right wrist, three knives flying into his fingers.

“Drop the knives, Fushimi-san,” Ito Hajime's voice was steady. Fushimi tightened his grip on his knives for a second, feeling the cool metal press against his fingers before dropping them. The clattered heavily to the ground against the box of larger knives.

“You're going to come with us,” Kyoda's voice also spoke up. “And if you make any noise alerting the Captain from his office, well, we've got weapons trained on his door to shoot him.”

“And what,” Fushimi laughed lightly with disdain, “you're going to hold me hostage, is that it? You're going to kill me, is that it? Pathetic.”

He turned with a sardonic smile on his face as he held his arms out from his body. Both had guns trained on him and both with grim expressions on his face. “That's the problem with Research Division. Too buried in their fucking noses with data to truly comprehend what power really is. You see your world small and narrow. You don't even think about what is out there. You think that by holding me hostage that you'll force a change? You think that by killing me you'll force a change? You're completely fucking delusional and out of your mind.

He leaned forward a little, letting his hair hang over one of his eyes as he adjusted his glasses. “You're already doomed. It's too late for you. It doesn't matter if I die. You've already signed your fate long ago.”

“Ito Hajime and Kyoda Ayato,” Munakata's distinctive voice spoke from behind Fushimi as he entered in from the other door, the one closest to his office. “You are hereby under arrest for mutiny and attempting a coup.”

Shock flitted across the two researchers' expressions.

“But, what-”

“Your compatriots in the Riot Squad, Morita Haruhiko and Morita Ayame have been persuaded to see the error of their ways for now. They are currently being detained by Lieutenant Awashima,” Munakata intoned. “As is Sato Riku and a couple of his squad members when they tried to shoot one of my men in the back as he fell from the sniper's perch.”

Fushimi knew the captain had read the amended report he had found, the initial one submitted by a field medic in the immediate aftermath of Fuse's injury having been faked. It seemed whomever was the medic on duty by Fuse's bedside had re-written the report in the early morning hours, in order to give the man better care. It had given the captain the needed leverage to arrest Sato Riku and his compatriots.

“Lower your weapons and come quietly and I will consider leniency,” Munakata finished. Shocked silence greeted his terms.

Fushimi saw it even before he fully registered it and reacted on instinct. Ito raged, his finger tightening on the trigger. The knife flew out of Fushimi's wrist at an incredible speed too fast for anyone's eye to follow and intercepted the first bullet with a _ping! _that had been fired at Munakata; while his other hand, gripping the unfamiliar weight of the heavier, larger blade he had never practiced with was thrown at the researcher.

There was a spray of blood, before the gun went flying out of Ito's hand and the knife deftly cut through the top of the man's wrist and nearly pinned him to the wall behind him. Blood gushed from the wound that the knife had created and Fushimi smiled a little as he saw that the knife had cut through the tendon of the man's thumb. Ito was never going to hold anything again. The researcher screamed, falling to his knees, clutching his mangled hand.

Fushimi immediately flashed three more knives from his holster and held them up in a clear warning against Kyoda, daring the man to fire his weapon. Luckily, the researcher took one glance at Ito writhing on the ground in agony before placing his gun on the ground and kicking it away. Fushimi hefted the knives in his hand, sorely tempted to pincushion the researcher before the soft clearing of Munakata's throat made him click his tongue in annoyance. _Spoilsport_, he groused as he holstered his knives. It would do everyone good if he could just practice a little on live targets...

Akiyama and Benzai stormed in through the same doors the researchers had come through, apparently fresh off of their twelve hour shift at the excavation site, but ready to act. Akiyama cuffed Kyoda and led him away while Benzai approached the wounded Ito. The other man seemed a bit baffled as to how to proceed. He glanced at Fushimi who shrugged and walked over. However, instead of helping out his fellow swordsman, he pulled the larger knife from the man's hand, eliciting another howling scream before turning around and walking away.

It was not his problem anymore.

“I see that this was a good investment,” Munakata commented as he passed by the captain.

“Transcript of the conversation was recorded. I'll send it along shortly along with my after action report from last night,” Fushimi said as he hefted the larger knife and tried to let it roll on his fingers. He did not quite manage to do it well, but supposed practice was needed like the dart-knives. “I need more coffee.”

“Please report to me at your convenience then,” the captain smiled blandly and Fushimi clicked his tongue.

He continued walking and approached Ayame who had been clutching her mop with some fear and surprise in her eyes. As he passed by her, he dropped double her payment into one of her pockets. It was as far of an apology she was going to get for exposing her to such danger, but also for her to clean the blood up from the floors. He left the office and headed down to the cafeteria. He was going to need a lot of coffee...and also to write yet _another_ after-action report.

His only saving grace – Ito Hajime was dealt with at his own discretion per the captain's directives.


	8. Chapter 8

The door to his office opened and closed. But Munakata did not react to it as he clutched the puzzle piece in his hand. Instead, he placed the piece down next to two more to form a small cluster. He knew who would arrive without even so much as a polite knock or 'pardon me'. The only time Fushimi did such things was when he was being deliberately obtuse or knew he needed an interruption of sorts.

“What are your thoughts on Tanaka Reika and Yamada Rin?” he started without preamble.

“Tanaka probably means no harm. She seems to have hindered Ogawa Saya in some manner according to the transcript. Yamada Rin, nothing much to say.”

“You don't like him,” Munakata found the piece and placed it in the triple cluster, forming a quad.

There was the softest of grumbles that barely carried in the nearly-quiet room. Munakata chuckled lightly and stood up, sliding his seat away as he gestured towards the puzzle he had working on. It was a quarter of the way done. “If you would be so kind to perhaps try your hand?”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “Is this an order?” He clicked his tongue irritably, but moved towards the desk even before Munakata had a chance to answer.

He smiled a little as he stepped to the side and headed towards the tatami mat where he had been brewing some tea. Slipping his boots off, he made himself comfortable and poured some tea. “Would you like any?”

“No,” Fushimi had already took a corner piece and started to arrange a corner, elongating the cluster of four that was started to a long thin line with an edge piece that started to define the edges of the puzzle.

Munakata sipped his tea, savoring its nutty aromatic taste. This was a good batch. He would have to order some more of the leaves when he could. “Ogawa Saya will be staying on as lead researcher, but she understands her shortened leash status,” he continued as if they had not been interrupted by puzzles and the like. “Kyoda Ayato has been dismissed from Sceptre 4 and will never be working in the government or private sectors as a researcher scientist again. It is likely he will have to change careers. Ito Hajime has been arrested by local police and charged with attempted murder.”

Munakata watched his third-in-command carefully as he said the last few words and saw the slight stiffening of Fushimi's shoulders. He let the silence hang between them for a few minutes, watching as the younger man sift through the pieces and placed a few connecting the edges. However, he also continued to work on the clusters that had already been formed.

“Will you be pressing charges?” Fushimi finally asked.

“Ah,” Munakata sipped his tea and set the cup down. “I was about to ask you that...” That brought a confused look to his third-in-command's face. “He was, after all, holding the gun on you so it was his intent to shoot you first before I even arrived. Perhaps it was just a startled reaction that he had fired the gun at me. It seems clear to me, even in the transcripts, that you were the primary target.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue softly and snorted before doing something Munakata did not expect. He placed a single piece decisively on the floor without considering where it was supposed to go or what edges it met. It was as if he _knew_ where the piece went and how it formed with the rest of the puzzle.

And Munakata felt a bit of pride swell in him at the sudden leap of knowledge Fushimi just displayed.

“Aggravated assault would probably be better,” he commented, “you could at least get it to stick. And not have to worry about the fact that he won't be able to write or sign his name anymore.”

“Then I will recommend that to the prosecutor,” Munakata replied. “As for Kotosawa Yuusuke, I have interviewed him and he was quite remorseful. He understands the short leash he will be put on but values his own job and life a little too much to consider defying his orders. He will not be conducting any further post-engagement analysis and I have reassigned him to Zenjo-shi's department.”

“The Ogre has its uses.”

“That he does,” Munakata agreed. Silence fell between them, but neither seemed inclined to break it. Outside, the muffled sounds of sword practice or drills was the only thing that broke through. Munakata took another sip of his tea and watched as Fushimi stared at the puzzle pieces, placing another one without any assistance what so ever onto the table. He quickly added a second one next to it, connecting both together.

“There are still others out there...”

“Oh?”

“They'll just bide their time. I would if I were them.”

If the words came from anyone else, it would have been a cause for alarm, but Munakata merely nodded and finished his tea. He set the cup down and to the side to clean later and stood up. “Still a card in my hand, eh?” he echoed the words he had said long ago in the immediate aftermath of the Minato twins' arrest. He came around to his desk and stared down at the puzzle that Fushimi had expanded upon.

“Still no regrets,” Fushimi replied in equal measure as he decisively placed a cluster of three pieces on another blank part of the table.

Munakata smiled slightly and pulled out the two dart-knives he had taken with him on the day he re-activated Fushimi to field-active duty. He placed it onto the table into the middle of the puzzle. Though they were of odd shapes, but they seemed to fit quite perfectly in between the patches of puzzle pieces in his eyes.

“Thank you for your good work, Fushimi-kun.”

Their eyes met and the words that Fushimi had mouthed so long ago appeared again, but this time with a voice.

“As my King, Munakata Reisi commands...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was half way through writing this particular story and found a fan translation of the last few chapters of [ Lost Small World ](https://messier-45.tumblr.com/lsw). I'm not sure how accurate it is, but considering the bits and pieces I read around the various fanfics on this site...maybe it's not too far off the mark. This chapter was heavily influenced by these particular chapters:
> 
> Mission 3 - The Puzzle Scene  
Last Mission - King's Dagger


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